


die another day

by hedgehogwatch



Series: diamonds are forever [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Assistant Mingyu, Drug Dealing, Drug lord Wonwoo, Emotional Abuse, M/M, another wild ride, basically wonwoo x everyone he meets, mingyu needs a hug, prequel to a view to a kill, secret agent junhui, set in 1994, someone help these boys, this one is a little darker than the first, wonwoo is a terrible person, wonwoo's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehogwatch/pseuds/hedgehogwatch
Summary: *prequel to a view to a kill*“If I’d have known then what I know now about Jeon Wonwoo, I would have run away as fast as I could while I still had the chance. I might’a even pulled the trigger on him when he wasn’t looking. But that opportunity is long gone- I’m in too deep. Maybe another day...”





	1. i'm gonna shake up the system (prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> yo i made a [ playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/nor_86/playlist/7grsJdNvBXxynKVRG8M1v2) for this fic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh! here it is, the (not so) long awaited prequel! please, if you haven't read a view to a kill first, you might want to, or else this could spoil some things. but really, it’s up to you! anyway, this is just the prologue chapter, but there's lots more to come very, very soon! hope you'll stick around  
> <3, hedgehogwatch

**Seoul, South Korea**

**November 14, 1994**

 

“So, Mr. Jeon, today makes one year since you’ve inherited Jeontec Pharmaceuticals. How does that make you feel?”

 

Wonwoo puts on an easy smile and settles back in the faux leather chair, fingertips tapping on the armrests. “Well, as wonderful as this year has been, it is, of course, a bittersweet situation. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss my father.” 

 

The interviewer nods solemnly. “Of course.”

 

“But at the same time, I look to honor him by making Jeontec the most successful company it can be. And considering the fact that in the last year alone, sales are at a record high, production is up, and most importantly, customer and employee satisfaction is the best it’s ever been, I like to think I’ve done a decent job,” he says calmly, a hint of satisfaction playing on his lips.

 

“Without a doubt.” Suddenly, the woman’s smile fades, and her brows furrow with concern. “But it’s just, you’re so young. It’s such a big responsibility for someone who’s only…” She tilts her head sideways. “Exactly how old are you?”

 

Wonwoo combs a hand through his hair. “I’m twenty-two.”

 

“Wow,” the interviewer breathes incredulously. “Twenty-two. The problems you have to face, the stress you must be under… I don’t know any twenty-two year olds that have to deal with the same challenges you do. Do you ever wish you were able to be, just, a normal young adult?”

 

The CEO shakes his head. “No, not really. I knew that at some point, I would eventually take over Jeontec.” He looks down and clasps his hands together, resting them on his lap. “Not so soon, of course. But business is something I thoroughly enjoy. I’ll admit,” he shrugs, “I do lead a very different life from most people my age, but I wouldn’t trade my position for anything. My father left behind a long-standing legacy as a strong, wise, businessman, and the least I can do as his son is to uphold that.” 

 

“Very well said,” she hums. “I think your father would be very proud. You’ve done an exceptional job of bringing some youthful energy to your father’s company, and I can’t wait to see how you’ll lead Jeontec into the new millennium.”

 

Wonwoo bows his head, closing his eyes to seem as sincere as possible. “Thank you very much for your faith in me.”

 


	2. a time to work, a time to play

 

As soon as Wonwoo steps out of the interview room, he’s bombarded by television staff praising his “on-screen charm”, or “eloquent speech”, or whatever else it is they’re blabbering about. He does his best to just bow politely and say thank you as his eyes scan the area frantically. Right now, there’s only one person he needs to speak with, and he’s nowhere to be found.

 

“Sir, that was,” Wonwoo turns around to face the man speaking to him, and he lets out a sigh of relief as he realizes who it is. “You did a really great job,” Mingyu says with a shy smile. 

 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, a frown set firmly on his face. He grips his assistant’s forearm and drags him towards the studio’s exit, winding through the bland carpeted hallways. “Any word from Soonyoung?”

 

“He still plans on coming tonight at 7. Is there anything I need to prepare?” Mingyu asks as he steps in front of Wonwoo to open the door for him. His eyes linger on the man’s black patterned velvet coat, tailored perfectly around his slim waist, as he walks through the door without a word. Heat rises in his cheeks once he looks up at Wonwoo’s knowing expression, the faintest smile tugging at his boss’ lips. Mingyu’s never been good at hiding anything, especially not from Wonwoo. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to stare,” he mumbles, hanging his head in embarrassment.

 

Wonwoo holds up a hand to quiet Mingyu. “I’ll probably need a few heroin vials on hand. I have a feeling that’s what Soonyoung is coming for.” He twists his diamond ring around his finger idly as he slips into his car, ignoring the customary ‘Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon’ from his driver. Mingyu follows right behind and settles into the seat next to him. 

 

Subconsciously, Mingyu’s eyes flicker between his own seat and Wonwoo’s, as if silently asking for permission to sit next to his boss. When Wonwoo doesn’t give him a response either way, he reaches up tentatively to buckle his seatbelt, wincing at the loud sound of the click. “Kim Junmyeon asked me to give this to you,” he says quietly as he pulls out a small black box from his pocket.

 

Quickly, Wonwoo rips it from Mingyu’s hands and opens it, revealing a diamond-studded Rolex. He removes the watch from the box and holds it up to the light, discerning eyes studying every inch of it. “Is it a gift?”

 

“Yes, sir. A thank you for your last big shipment.”

 

Wonwoo makes a small noise of acknowledgement as he turns the watch around in his hands. He spends a few minutes inspecting the authenticity and quality of it before tossing it aside carelessly. “I don’t wear white gold,” he scoffs, leaning against the window of the car as if nothing happened.

 

Something inside Mingyu is reviled by the fact that the average person would kill for a free Rolex, and yet Wonwoo treats it as though it has no more value than a piece of trash. But he knows much better than to say anything. He would prefer to sleep comfortably, without any bruises or worse, guilt, to worry about. “What would you like me to do with it?” he questions as he picks it up off the floor. Maybe Wonwoo doesn’t like white gold, but he thinks it certainly wouldn’t look bad on his own wrist. 

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Wonwoo smirks. He leans over and pulls the watch from Mingyu’s hand, and Mingyu can only hope the other didn’t notice him shiver at the feeling of Wonwoo’s fingers against his. His eyes are fixed on Mingyu as he presses the watch against his lips, raising an eyebrow in thought. “I could let you have it,” he suggests, enjoying the brief smile that lights up Mingyu’s face at the offer. 

 

The younger man bites his bottom lip and looks up at Wonwoo unsurely. “I-I’ve been wanting a nice watch for a long time,” he stammers, a hint of pleading edging his words.

 

Wonwoo twists the dial between his fingers and hums, “Perhaps. But I don’t think you’ve earned it.” A deep laugh escapes his lips as he puts it back in the box and shoves it in his pocket, looking back at Mingyu with shameless satisfaction.

 

Mingyu pretends not to notice and gives Wonwoo a sweet smile. “I’ll try to work even harder, then.” By this point, he’s used to Wonwoo and all of his ways. Doesn’t mean it’s not equally hurtful every time the man throws something like this at him, though. But it’s his job to take every ounce of shit with a bright smile and optimistic (but not too optimistic- Wonwoo doesn’t like that either, Mingyu has learned) attitude. His priority is not to make Wonwoo happy, but to keep him relatively stable, mostly for Mingyu’s own sake. A barely-decent Wonwoo makes a bruise-free Mingyu. 

 

Unsurprisingly, Wonwoo ignores him again, and by this point, Mingyu isn’t even sure why he bothers saying anything in the first place. “Has Yifan given any update about the next cocaine shipment?” Wonwoo asks.

 

“Yes, sir. It should be arriving tomorrow.”

 

“And Junhui?”

 

“No word from him.”

 

Wonwoo exhales, a little irritatedly, and drums his fingers on the top of his thigh. Mingyu knows he’s angry; he’s been expecting a call from Junhui for about a week now, and Jeon Wonwoo doesn’t like to be kept waiting. But more importantly, Kim Mingyu doesn’t like to be left worrying whether his boss will be in a bad mood tonight. And he can tell that, if Soonyoung is coming over, chances are more likely than not that he will. 

 

Fortunately, he knows exactly how to pacify Wonwoo just enough so that, just maybe, he’ll be at least tolerable tonight. He leans over and gently places his hand on top of Wonwoo’s, fingertips trailing up the man’s arm. “You really did give a great interview, though,” Mingyu murmurs, inching even closer to Wonwoo’s side. He rests his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder and presses his lips to the other’s jaw. “I could hear you talk about business all day,” he whispers, leaving small pecks against Wonwoo’s neck.

 

It’s natural for Mingyu, the instantaneous response to use seduction as a means to get himself in his boss’ good graces. It’s all he’s ever known. Since his days in the gang life, his good looks have always been his one ace up his sleeve, a shameful, but fairly convenient way to get out of sticky situations.

 

“You really want that watch, huh?” Wonwoo smirks, not reacting to Mingyu’s advances, but not pushing him away either. 

 

Mingyu tugs at Wonwoo’s shirt collar and looks up at him with his lip caught between his teeth. “I wouldn’t mind it,” he grins. “But I’d like to have you more.” He grasps Wonwoo’s silk tie and twirls it between his fingers. “Tonight?” he asks shyly, the innocent pink blush on his cheeks a jarring contrast to his suggestive proposition.

 

“No,” Wonwoo snaps. He wraps his hand around Mingyu’s wrist and pulls the other’s hand away from his tie. It’s hard for him not to notice the obvious disappointment in his assistant’s face, but he won’t be swayed. “If I wanted to sleep with you, I would tell you.” He looks over at Mingyu, disgust written all over his face. “One would think that by now, you’d know your place,  _ Mingyu _ .”

 

The younger man can only nod shamefully. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispers as he shifts away from Wonwoo. He blames himself for being so impulsive; by now, he really should know that it’s never a good idea to ask Wonwoo for anything other than forgiveness. But he can’t help the fact that he so desperately craves affection, and even if he knows that Wonwoo will never give him true reciprocation, he’s never one to turn down a good lay, either. That seems to be the only thing that ever puts the both of them in a good enough mood. “It was worth a try,” he mumbles under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 1! like i said earlier, this story will be a lot more focused on Wonwoo and his life as a drug lord, so it's a grittier atmosphere that the first, but hopefully the style isn't too different. chapter lengths will be inconsistent, like the first- my apologies. anyway, i've written most of it, so updates should be fairly quick and regular, but i can't promise to stick to a set schedule. it should be around 20k words, like a view to a kill, but *who knows*. thank you so much for reading, y'all! i'm excited to see what comes next! (pssst come party w me on tumblr @thesoapclub)
> 
> infinite love <3  
> hedgehogwatch


	3. i'm gonna break the cycle

Wonwoo groans at the sound of the doorbell. As much as he hopes that this meeting will be a quick one- just trading hard cash for hard drugs- he has a feeling that it won’t be quite as simple. Soonyoung has been uncomfortably suspicious these last few weeks. “Mingyu, the door!” he shouts, closing his book and making his way to the supply room, where Hansol had prepared the order. 

 

Mingyu and Soonyoung’s faint voices echo from downstairs as he unlocks the door and steps inside, swinging the key around his index finger. The room is filled with endless rows of stainless steel storage cabinets, each containing a chemical more deadly than the next. For Wonwoo, this one room is his home, above all else, where his heart and soul lies behind lock and key. 

 

He moves to the the storage container furthest to the right, picks up the metal case inside, and pulls out a vial of heroin. He holds it up to the light, tilting the dark brown liquid around, and smiles contently at the visible quality of it.

 

“I prepped 6 vials, Mr. Jeon,” Hansol says as he stands up from his desk in the back of the room and walks over towards his boss. Wonwoo really isn’t sure how old Hansol is, but he knows the boy can’t be older than twenty. And yet, he’s proven to be invaluable when it comes to inspecting chemical quality and purity. “Do you need me to get any more for you?” 

 

“Six should be enough.” Wonwoo puts the vial back in the case and closes it gently. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Hansol. How did you manage to get it so pure?” he asks, stepping closer to the shorter man. 

 

The tips of Hansol’s ears flush at the close proximity, and he looks down timidly, shuffling his feet. “It just takes patience and persistence,” he says quietly.

 

“Hm,” Wonwoo breathes, reaching down to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Hansol’s ear. “You learned from the best,” he says, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. 

 

Hansol sucks in a shallow breath at the feeling of Wonwoo’s fingers brushing against his skin, and even when the older pulls his hand away, he can still feel the sensation linger. He looks up into Wonwoo’s eyes and smiles softly. “Thank you, sir.” Hel bows, clasping his hands behind his back shyly. “Anything else I can do for you?”

 

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No, that’s all.” Carefully, he studies Hansol’s face, noting the dark circles under his eyes, far too pronounced for someone his age. As apathetic as he normally feels towards people other than himself, there’s something about Hansol that reminds Wonwoo of himself when he was a teenager. The boy is quiet and follows orders well, yet he’s surprisingly mature and ambitious, showing promise to potentially follow in his own footsteps one day. “You look tired, Hansol. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off and get some sleep?” he says, picking up the case and walking towards the room’s exit. 

 

“Yes, sir. Thank you very much.”

 

A small smile spreads across Wonwoo’s face as he turns back around. “My pleasure.”

 

***

 

Soonyoung’s posture quickly becomes rigid as Wonwoo enters his line of sight. He’s well aware that their meeting, growing more and more imminent with every passing second, will undoubtedly end badly. But it’s the infinitesimal chance that, perhaps, his old friend still has some human nature left in him that brings him here nevertheless. “Wonwoo,” he exhales, inclining his head. “Good to see you.”

 

Though the use of his first name makes Wonwoo bristle slightly, he does his best to disregard it. As one of his closest high school friends, Soonyoung is given a pass that few are allowed. “And you,” Wonwoo replies cooly. “How have you been?”

 

“Ah,” Soonyoung mumbles, “I’ve been better.” 

 

This is hardly new news for Wonwoo. The secret of the young tech billionaire’s drug addiction has remained out of the news’ prying hands, at the cost of a few signatures, and a couple several-figure checks, all made to Jeon Wonwoo. “Here for the new shipment?” the younger man asks, raising an eyebrow. 

 

Soonyoung opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, shaking his head. “Well, I…” He sighs. “I need to talk to you, Wonwoo.” There’s a look of desperation in his eyes that Wonwoo normally finds a strange pleasure in. Desperate people are always the easiest to manipulate. 

 

But the tone of his client’s voice suggests that he's afraid, most likely that what he needs to say could potentially upset Wonwoo. “We’ll meet in my office then,” Wonwoo says stiffly. He's had his concerns about this meeting ever since Soonyoung called him a few weeks prior, but those worries were fleeting, for the most part. Now, though, a dark feeling twists its way around Wonwoo’s thoughts as he turns around and walks towards the office. 

 

Silently, Soonyoung follows behind him. The waves of anxiety crashing through his mind prompt him to scratch his forearm, a habit he so badly wished was just an idiosyncrasy. But as his nails scrape over thick scabs and familiar pinpricks, he realizes that no amount of wishing will change the reality of things. At this point, Wonwoo is his only hope. 

 

Wonwoo’s office is a stark contrast to the ornate wooden furnishings and lavish antiques found in his estate. The walls and floors are painted a matte black; the only things breaking up the dark void are a metal desk, two metal chairs, and a single plain spotlight. It’s just one part of Wonwoo’s method he employs in order to break down his clients. The lack of distractions allowed for Wonwoo to be given undivided attention, and the bleak surroundings did a damn good job of shattering one’s spirit. “So,” Wonwoo begins as he settles into his desk chair, “You need to speak with me?”

 

“Yes,” Soonyoung swallows. The room is extremely dark, and visibility is poor, but he can see the outlines of Wonwoo’s sharp cheekbones and jawline shining against the black background. He thinks back to the days when they were young and the other’s features were softer and more gentle, and he thinks it’s unbelievable how much has changed in the short time since then. “I…” He rubs the back of his neck, straining to find the right words. “I’m worried about my health.”

 

A disquieting stillness hangs over them; the only sounds piercing the silence are the quiet hum of the air conditioner and Soonyoung’s shallow breaths. “And?” Wonwoo asks, voice tense. 

 

“I just...” Soonyoung takes one look at the man across from him, noting the way his jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are just slightly furrowed. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this life up,” he confesses, hoping that by the grace of some deity, Wonwoo will find some pity in his plea. When he realizes that no notable changes have taken place in the younger man’s expression, he feels the need to add a quiet, “I have a business to run.”

 

“So do I,” Wonwoo says, locking eyes with Soonyoung. 

 

The shorter man quickly diverts his focus, unable to hold Wonwoo’s intense gaze. It’s like staring at a solar eclipse- dark, but still dangerous. “Please, Wonwoo. You and I go way back… I wouldn’t do this to hurt you or cheat you.” He sighs, finally building enough strength to just get the damn words out. “But I need to get clean. So I’m afraid I’ll have to end our arrangement here.”

 

It takes all of the strength in the universe for Wonwoo to not snap Soonyoung’s neck right then and there. A cold sweat runs down his back.  _ He can’t do that. He can’t do that. He can’t do that.  _ He takes several deep breaths, feeling his lashes flutter against his skin as he closes his eyes. “You do realize that you can’t do that,” he whispers. 

 

“I’m sorry, but-”

 

“But nothing.” Despite the sheer amount of fury taking hold of every cell in his body, Wonwoo keeps his voice even and flat. “Need I remind you that you signed a five-year contract?” he asks as he opens the desk drawer and leans over to sort through the files. The screech of the drawer opening is almost deafening, but it’s nothing compared to the suffocating atmosphere in the room. 

 

He pulls out the file marked ‘Kwon Soonyoung’ and slams it on the desk, staring the man in question down once more. Nimble fingers flip through the folder’s contents until he finally removes a single piece of paper from the stack. He turns it around so that Soonyoung can read it and traces the man’s loopy signature with his index finger. “Right here.”

 

His eyes can barely focus these days, but Soonyoung does his best to follow Wonwoo’s finger. The man is right, he did sign that contract. But he really needs Wonwoo to work with him here. At this rate, he’s not even sure how he’ll make it past thirty. “I know,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “But I was just hoping you’d be able to work with me here.” His voice breaks, “We used to be friends.”

 

“You signed a five-year contract, and it’s only been three years. I don’t think there needs to be any further discussion,” Wonwoo snaps.

 

“Please,” Soonyoung begs. Tears are brimming in his eyes as he looks up at Wonwoo, but he has enough pride left to keep them from flowing. “Please, Wonwoo. I can’t sleep, can’t think, can’t live without the itch for another high, and I’m,” he bites his lip to stop himself from crying, “I’m sick of it. Really, I appreciate the fact that you’ve been my supplier for this long, but I just… I can’t do this anymore. I-I want to have a family someday, Wonwoo,” he rasps. “And I won’t be able to do that if I keep this life up.” By now, he knows he’s just rambling, but he can tell it’ll take a tremendous amount of emotional bargaining to break through Wonwoo’s stone-cold exterior. “Look, it was so stupid of me to get hooked in high school. Now I have to pay my entire life for a mistake that I made one night at a party. Please,” he asks again, “I wanna change and be a better person. Please help me get out of this.”

 

Wonwoo narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side. “I’m not forcing you to take the drugs, Soonyoung. I’m just forcing you to pay for them. Two more years, and then you’re free to do whatever the fuck you want.”

 

“Wonwoo, I need to get out of this life.” 

 

“Two more years.”

 

“I’m begging you.”

 

The drug lord holds up a hand to silence him. Again, he searches through Soonyoung’s file. A sinister smile plays across his lips as he finds exactly what he’s looking for. Wordlessly, he slides a small manila envelope across the desk. With trembling hands, Soonyoung picks it up and slowly opens the flap. 

 

A cry escapes Soonyoung’s lips as he realizes what’s in there, and he drops it from his hands as though it’s on fire. On the table lies a series of glossy photographs, held together by a single paperclip. They depict various scenes, of Soonyoung opening a metal case filled with heroin vials, of Soonyoung with a syringe in his arm, of Soonyoung sitting in the very seat he’s in now, and a sickening horror sets in as he realizes the significance of them. “Blackmail,” he whispers as tears fall down his cheeks.

 

“I like to call it insurance,” Wonwoo shrugs casually. 

 

Soonyoung’s eyes are blown wide with shock as he glances back and forth between the photographs and Wonwoo. “How… Why did you?”

 

“If you read the contract,” Wonwoo smirks triumphantly, “You would have known that this is standard procedure. People are fickle, you know,” he says as he leans back in his chair. “Do some little thing they don’t like, and all of a sudden, they’re after your head. This,” he motions to the pictures, “Is the easiest way to keep them in line.”

 

There are no words left for Soonyoung to say. His entire body wracks with sobs as Wonwoo’s dark voice drones in the background. “So, your last order was six vials of heroin. Let’s see, 450,000 won each times six will bring you to a total of 2,700,000 won, plus the 11,000 won processing fee. Will you be paying in cash or check?”

 

Through blurred vision, Soonyoung stares incredulously at Wonwoo. “I’m going to report you to the police.”

 

“Please, by all means, go for it,” Wonwoo laughs, picking up a pen from his desk and twirling it between his fingers. “You do realize that I’m just going to anonymously release these photographs if you do.” He runs his tongue across his teeth, wide grin still set on his face. “And then what’s the point?” 

 

Every possible response Soonyoung was formulating catches in his throat. Of course, Wonwoo would do something like that. How could he have ever assumed that the man still had the tiniest bit of decency left in him? 

 

“I’ll be paying in cash,” Soonyoung breathes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there you go! a nice, long, substantial chapter! a real rarity when it comes to your truly. this chapter was really, pretty dark, so i'm sorry, but i hope it gives some insight into everyone's backstory. hopefully, if you ever go back and reread a view to a kill, things might be a little clearer. 
> 
> but of course, if you have any questions or just want to scream, hit me up on tumblr @thesoapclub
> 
> thank you again and again for reading!
> 
> i love all of my shining stars!!!!  
> hedgehogwatch


	4. i'm gonna destroy my ego

Mingyu stares blankly at the wall in front of him, taking deep, but ragged breaths. The events of the last few hours cloud his thoughts to the point where he can’t think of anything but the sight of Soonyoung leaving in tears, the sound of glass shattering, the sound of Wonwoo screaming to no one in particular. He knew that this wouldn’t end well, but could never have imagined the extent to which Wonwoo would be enraged. And it’s inevitable that his boss will take that anger out of him at some point this evening. 

 

He wraps his arms around his knees and hugs them into his chest. RIght now, he just wants someone to hold him, to tell him that he’s going to be okay, and he doesn’t have to worry about anything anymore. But he’s all alone in his dark, empty bedroom, with only the pale moonlight to keep him company. 

 

“Mingyu?” says a small voice from the other side of the door. “Where’ve you been?”

 

A soft hand rests on his shoulder, but Mingyu doesn’t feel like looking at Hansol. He’s the second to last person Mingyu wants to see right now.

 

“What’s wrong, Gyu?” he asks quietly, shifting his body so that he can see Mingyu’s face. 

 

No response comes from the older. 

 

“Mingyu,” Hansol repeats gently. “Are you worried about Wonwoo?”

 

“It’s Mr. Jeon,” Mingyu mutters under his breath. 

 

“It’s okay, Mingyu. Please don’t cry.” He reaches up to wipe away some of the tears that are now beginning to stream down the other’s cheek. Mingyu’s face remains stiff at the contact; he doesn’t want Hansol’s pity; he wants Wonwoo’s arms around him, strong and protective, just like in his dreams. Not Wonwoo’s fist on his cheek, like he can predict will happen sometime before the night ends. “You know he’s not gonna hurt you.”

 

He narrows his eyes and scowls. “No, he’s not gonna hurt  _ you, Hansol _ ,” he spits, jabbing a finger into the younger man’s chest. “Don’t pretend to know what my relationship with my boss is like.”

 

“Wha-”

 

“You’re his favorite, kid. He’d never lay a hand on you, ‘cause you’re smart, and you’re cute, and you take orders like a dog.” Mingyu scoffs, a few stray tears dripping down his face. “And me...” he angles his face away so the other can’t see how he’s starting to cry again. “I’m only here ‘cause I can’t tell him no. I’ll do whatever he wants, as long as he wants me to do it.” Shaky fingers run through dry, bleached hair. “I even dyed my hair because he told me I’d look better blonde.”

 

Hansol shakes his head and gives Mingyu a sympathetic look. “I’m sor-”

 

“You,” Mingyu sniffles, “You don’t get it. For a little while, I really did think this,” he gestures vaguely, “Was paradise. I had somewhere to sleep, three meals a day, and my boss looked like an idol.” The flow of tears grows more furious as he recalls those memories he’s tried to suppress for so long. “He never really was nice, but damn it, he was so much nicer than anyone I’d ever known. A-and maybe I was just too naive to see what kinda mess I would be stuck in after three years, but at the same time…” he brings the sleeve of his shirt up to wipe his face. “It sounds ridiculous,” he chuckles bitterly, “But I always think he’s gonna change one day.” His voice drops to a low whisper, and he leans in closer to Hansol. “Most importantly, though, if I ever try to pull some crazy stunt and leave, I’m not only gonna have Mr. Jeon on my heels, but my old gang, too. Whether I like it or not, he’s my protection.”

 

Hansol murmurs as he pulls Mingyu into a tight embrace. “Come here.” He feels the tears threatening to spill from his own eyes at the feeling of Mingyu’s sobs shaking against his chest. His own story wasn’t as dark and complicated; he was sixteen then, just searching for a purpose in life, and Wonwoo presented him an offer he just couldn’t resist. Of course, he had to be proclaimed dead by the law in order to protect himself, but truthfully, he rather liked the idea of being a ‘ghost’, free from the tangles of legal identity. 

 

Suddenly, the door creaks open, and the light from the hallway spills onto Mingyu’s tear stained face. “What’s going on here?” Wonwoo’s voice calls firmly. 

 

The blonde boy immediately lets go of Mingyu and stumbles back, straightening his clothes before giving Wonwoo a sympathetic bow. “My apologies, sir. Mingyu wasn’t feeling well, and I was just comforting him,” he says flatly. He glances over at Mingyu, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, stiff with fear. “I think he’s better now, though.”

 

Wonwoo steps inside the room, closes the door behind him, and looks around as if inspecting it. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks, turning to look at Mingyu. 

 

“I-I’m fine, sir,” he breathes, “Just a headache.”

 

A skeptical expression crosses Wonwoo’s face as he nears the taller man. His footsteps are slow and calculated like a predator stalking up on his prey, and in the near-total darkness of the room, the man is almost undetectable among the inky shadows. Cold fingers grip Mingyu’s chin, tilting it upward, and Mingyu’s breath begins to hasten at the contact. Mingyu desperately wishes it wasn’t so hard to see; if only he could get a glimpse of Wonwoo’s eyes, he would be able to read the other’s body language to determine his next move. But now, all he can do is rely on habit and previous experience. Even though Wonwoo denied him earlier, he’s willing to give it another shot. “Wanna kiss it better, though?” Mingyu whispers, lowering his head to run his nose along Wonwoo’s jaw.

 

“Tempting,” Wonwoo hums, angling his neck to accommodate the other’s display of affection. “But Jeonghan should be here any minute, so it’ll have to wait until after I meet with him.” He pulls his hand away from Mingyu’s chin and reaches up to slowly drag his thumb across the other’s lower lip. Some of the tension in Mingyu’s body dissipates. He knows Wonwoo’s in a good mood now because Jeonghan is coming, which means his boss will get both paid and laid, a momentary escape from what he heard transpired with Soonyoung earlier. The second Jeonghan walks out the door, though, he’s beyond certain that Wonwoo will immediately revert back to his usual self.

 

But he has to admit, it feels good to have Wonwoo be gentle with him. He closes his eyes and lets himself pretend that the touch belongs to someone who loves him, as the seconds turn into hours in his mind. “I’ll be ready, then,” Mingyu smiles as he takes Wonwoo’s hand and kisses his knuckles, imagining a different face in place of his boss’.

 

As Wonwoo steps back and walks out, Mingyu lets out a sigh, breathing returning to normal.

 

“Why do you do that?” Mingyu doesn’t have to see Hansol’s face to know he’s not smiling. 

 

“Do what?”

 

Hansol groans and sits on the windowsill, arms crossed. “That thing you do when Wonwoo’s around. It’s like you turn into some kind of whiny brat whose only concern is getting into Wonwoo’s pants.”

 

Mingyu purses his lips and raises an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Oh, please. Don’t act like you don’t realize you do it,” Hansol says, rolling his eyes. “You think you’re gonna get better treatment just because you, literally, kiss up to him? News flash, have you noticed that every single time, he turns you down? How much more obvious does he have to make it that he doesn’t like you, Mingyu?”

 

As much as Mingyu knows it’s true, both from his own deduction and hearing it explicitly from Wonwoo, hearing it from another person stings. But he’s not about to let Hansol know that. He looks up at the boy and shrugs nonchalantly. “Which one of us has actually  _ gotten  _ into his pants, though?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some mingyyyyyuuuuu for yooooouuuu! things are getting slightly more interesting, I hope! there's lots more to come, though, so keep those seatbelts buckled!
> 
> what fic of mine would this be if i didn't have the mandatory self-promo?  
> follow me on tumblr @thesoapclub
> 
> i love all of you lots and lots and lots <3  
> hedgehogwatch


	5. i'm gonna kiss some part of

 

**November 22, 1994**

 

Wonwoo sighs as he opens the door to his bedroom. His day was filled with pointless meetings, entitled clients, and clueless employees, and the only thing he wants to do at the moment is lay down.

 

“I don’t understand how you possibly read these books, Won. They’re boring as hell.” Wonwoo’s attention snaps to the man already laying in _his_ bed, wearing _his_ glasses, and reading _his_ books, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers.

 

He shrugs his jacket off and places it on his dresser, moving Junhui’s leather messenger bag to make room. “How did you even get in here, Jun?” Wonwoo sighs as he starts to untie his tie.

 

A satisfied smirk plays on Junhui’s lips, and he sets the book and glasses aside. “You forget that sneaking into places is what I do for a living.”

 

The taller man rolls his eyes and walks over to his closet to hang up his tie and blazer, completely unfazed by the other’s presence. “Mingyu let you in, didn’t he?”

 

There’s a moment of hesitation before Junhui relents. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Mingyu let me in.” He looks back up at Wonwoo, watching him unbutton his burgundy dress shirt. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have been able to sneak in if I wanted to. I just wasn’t about to set off one of your crazy alarms.” He snickers, “Jesus Christ, Wonwoo. You keep this place like a fuckin’ safe or something. No one wants to come bust your drug business, promise.”

 

“The second you become complacent is the second you dig your grave. I’ve only managed to keep this up for as long as I have because of the fact that I oversee every small detail and anticipate everything that could possibly happen,” Wonwoo says matter of factly, as though reciting an ancient proverb.

 

“You didn’t anticipate that I would be here,” Junhui laughs as he pulls the covers over his bare chest.

 

Once he’s finished unbuttoning his shirt, Wonwoo sets it aside and pulls his undershirt off, ignoring the wolf whistle from Junhui. He slides into the bed and closes his eyes when he feels the other press against his side. “You never came to visit me,” he frowns.

 

“You never called.” Junhui reaches up to twist a strand of Wonwoo’s dark hair between his fingers and shifts himself so that he’s laying on the younger's chest. “I didn’t know if you still wanted me to visit.”

 

“I’ve been busy.”

 

Junhui exhales, letting his head roll onto Wonwoo’s shoulder. “You always are. I guess even when you’re, one of the richest men alive, there’s always room to make more money, huh?”

 

“I suppose.” The feeling of Junhui’s back on his sends a radiant warmth through Wonwoo’s body. It’s not like he’s never had someone physically lay on him- far from it, actually. But something about Junhui never fails to make Wonwoo’s chest burn with a foreign sensation. He consistently dismisses it either as simple attraction, or the fact that Junhui is abnormally warm, always dancing around the dreaded four-letter word that lurks in the back of his thoughts.

 

“Well, even after all that hard work, you still manage to look good,” Junhui chuckles, tracing the other’s biceps with his fingertips.

 

Wonwoo scoffs. “It’s a miracle, considering what I have to deal with on a daily basis.” He pauses for a moment, debating whether or not to tell his friend this, but ultimately decides that it’s harmless enough. “Soonyoung came by last week.”

 

Junhui tilts his head sideways in question. “What’s the big deal? He’s your customer, isn’t he?”

 

Unease settles in Wonwoo’s stomach as he realizes that it was a terrible idea to bring up Soonyoung in the first place. While he didn’t mind mentioning that his former friend came, he’s not about to divulge any secrets beyond that, not even with Junhui. “Yeah, you’re right.” His hands trail down Junhui’s sides, moving slowly and deliberately until they stop to rest on the shorter man’s hipbones. “So what made you decide to drop by tonight?” Wonwoo whispers against Junhui’s neck.

 

The airy sound of Junhui’s laugh vibrates against Wonwoo’s chest. “Oh, you know,” he grins. “I was lonely.”

 

“Is that all I’m good for these days?” Wonwoo asks, raising his eyebrows playfully.

 

Junhui nips at Wonwoo’s ear, running his teeth along the soft skin. “If even that.”

 

“So you’re just after my money, then?”

 

“I certainly wouldn’t turn it down,” Junhui smiles. He places his hands on top of Wonwoo’s and draws circles into the drug lord’s wrists with his thumbs. “Being a private agent can be glamorous at times, but the pay is barely pocket change compared to what you make. I’ll admit, I like a man with money.”

 

Wonwoo chuckles before pinning Junhui’s shoulders on the bed and positioning himself on top of the other. He kneels on either side of his hips and smirks against Junhui’s jaw. “Well, you came to the right place, then.”

 

Immediately, his lips capture Junhui’s with ravenous intensity. Junhui slides his hands down Wonwoo’s back, feeling those familiar muscles he could map directly from memory. A needy whine escapes Junhui’s mouth as Wonwoo catches the Chinese man’s lower lip between his teeth, dragging sharp canines along tender skin. Junhui reaches up to pull at Wonwoo’s hair, causing the younger’s head to tilt back slightly. He takes this chance to roll the taller man on his back and press his lips against Wonwoo’s neck, slowly trailing to his collarbones.

 

He travels steadily down Wonwoo’s toned chest, stopping to leave burning kisses and soft bites along the pale skin. Though the other makes no sound, Junhui can feel Wonwoo’s heart beating frantically as his lips ghost over the left side of Wonwoo’s chest. Tight abdominal muscles contract when Junhui’s lips brush across them, inching closer to the waistline of Wonwoo’s pants.

 

His pulse quickens as dark thoughts creep into his mind. He thinks of the two of them right now, a soon-to-be wanted criminal skimming his teeth along the hipbones of one of the nation’s most powerful men. Junhui almost feels self-conscious compared to Jeon Wonwoo, but the fact that someone so important is always willing to show him a good time is enough to boost his ego and convince him that maybe he’s good for something after all.

 

A featherlight kiss is pressed to Wonwoo’s right hipbone before Junhui pulls Wonwoo on top of him again. He breathes in the intoxicating scent of Wonwoo’s cologne, a darker and stronger smell than that of the cologne his old friend used then they were younger. Personally, Junhui prefers Wonwoo’s Armani Eau de Nuit, the smell that occupied the thoughts of his teenage mind. He remembers skipping class so he could escape with Wonwoo in his Aston Martin convertible and drive to somewhere secret, away from the crowds of the city. He remembers being pushed back against the expensive leather seats, Wonwoo’s hands in his hair and lips on his.

 

Most of all, though, Junhui remembers how madly he was in love with the tall, lanky boy of his dreams.

 

But that Wonwoo isn’t the same Wonwoo that’s trailing fingers up and down Junhui’s thighs. This Wonwoo wears Clive Christian No. 1 and has no time for such ridiculous things as love.

 

As Junhui’s teeth tease at Wonwoo’s neck, Wonwoo’s hands travel up the agent’s chest, skin heated and sweat-slick, to grip his broad shoulders. Junhui looks up into Wonwoo ‘s eyes and finds himself getting lost in the void of endless darkness. While he can’t deny that they’re beautiful, they seem hauntingly empty, lacking any visible sign of emotion, and Junhui has to look away before he falls in too deep.

 

Wonwoo runs his tongue across his upper lip and gives Junhui an indulgent smirk. “Still after me just for my money?” he murmurs against Junhui’s ear as he presses himself closer to him, fingers crawling down the other’s arms. Junhui lets out a sharp cry as Wonwoo rolls his hips against his. His fingers hook onto the belt loops of Wonwoo’s pants; he needs more, he needs to be closer, he needs Wonwoo.

 

      Wonwoo finds Junhui’s lips again, silencing the moans that threaten to fall out of the other’s mouth. His tongue slides past Junhui’s lips, and instinctively, Junhui wraps his legs around the taller man’s waist when he licks inside his mouth. Wonwoo’s lips taste like pure sin, dangerous yet delicious.

 

It’s all too much for Junhui, the indescribable amount of pleasure coursing through his veins. So much so that his mind is hazy, thoughts only capable of revolving around the man on top of him. “I love you,” he gasps as Wonwoo pulls away.

 

The drug lord freezes. “What did you say?” he laughs breathily, condescension underlying his words.

 

 _Fuck._ Junhui bites his lip and squints his eyes shut, wishing the past few seconds could be erased from history. But here he is, knee deep in his own shit, with literally and physically no way out. “Fuck, I didn’t mean-”

 

“You know I’m not into that kind of stuff,” Wonwoo scoffs as he rolls off of Junhui’s body, leaving the other craving the lost warmth. He runs a hand through his damp hair and looks Junhui’s figure up and down before laughing. “Wow, that...” He shakes his head incredulously. “What a shame. I was really enjoying this, and then you had to go and ruin it.”

 

Junhui takes a gentle hold of Wonwoo’s wrist and looks at him pleadingly. “Wonwoo, I-”

 

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Junhui,” Wonwoo snaps. He sighs in aggravation and sits up against the bed’s headboard. “Just get out before I get angry,” he mumbles, waving a hand at Junhui.

 

“I didn’t mean it, Wonwoo. Honestly.”

 

Wonwoo ignores him and leans over to open the drawer to his antique gilded nightstand. Before Junhui can even make a move, the cold barrel of a gun is pressed right between his eyes. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Wonwoo whispers, staring him down from behind the trigger.

 

Wordlessly, Junhui nods and backs away, climbing out of the bed and stumbling to the other side of the room where he’s left his clothes. It’s far from the first time he’s had a gun pulled on him, but every single time, he he’s been ninety-nine percent sure that the person on the other end wouldn’t pull the trigger. He’s always had that innate ability to tell. But he’s not about to play games with Jeon Wonwoo when there are guns involved. He’s seen what the man’s capable of.

 

He hurriedly throws on his clothes and takes one last look back at Wonwoo, only to see that the man still has the gun aimed at him. He’d planned to stay a little longer, but he gets the feeling he’s not welcome anymore. Junhui dashes out of the room as soon as he’s fully clothed, closing the door softly behind him.

 

Wonwoo clenches his jaw as he lowers his gun, and he reaches over to place it on the bedside table, not bothering to put it back in the drawer. He unbuckles his belt and slides off his work pants before settling back under the covers and closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah. that happened. but fear not, readers, there's still lots more to come! this one might be just a few chapter longer than a view to a kill, but who knows? this is pretty much the extent of what i have already written, so updates might be a little slower from now on, but hopefully not too long!
> 
> but in the meantime ur always welcome to uhh FOLLOW ME ON TUMBLR @THESOAPCLUB *wink wonk*
> 
> thank you so much for supporting my work. i love all of u <3  
> hedgehogwatch


	6. i’m gonna wake up

Sunlight filters in through the small spaces between the silk curtains, rays burning Wonwoo’s eyes. He groans as he stretches his shoulders, feeling every tiny ache and pain in his muscles from the night before. Mingyu’s arms and legs are intertwined with his, and Wonwoo has to pry them off before he can shift to the edge of the bed. He sits there for a few moments and just breathes in an attempt to calm his raging nerves. But the thought of his impending anxiety only makes Wonwoo more anxious, and soon, breathing isn’t enough.

His hands instinctively find their way to the drawer of his nightstand, and he pulls it open, moving his gun aside to pick up a pack of cigarettes. It’s a bad habit, he’s aware, but one he reserves only for those times when nothing else seems to work. At least he’s not Soonyoung, Wonwoo always reminds himself.

He takes out one cigarette from the pack and puts it between his lips before he stands up to get his robe from where it had been cast aside on the floor last night. Or was it morning? Wonwoo wasn’t quite sure. He hadn't beeen keeping track of the time. His eyes flicker to Mingyu’s figure sprawled out across the bed, still soundly asleep. Jealousy rises in his chest at the fact that Mingyu can sleep so peacefully, without the merciless waking nightmares he has to endure every night.

Quickly, he puts his red velvet robe on and walks outside, squinting in the sun. It’s early enough that it’s not completely blinding, but three hours of sleep makes everything seem just a little bit worse. He picks up a lighter from the small table on his balcony and holds the flame to his cigarette, taking a long drag.

The morning breeze blows across Wonwoo’s chest, only partially covered by the robe, and for a moment, he almost feels guilty for polluting the fresh air. But not guilty enough to stop. He thinks of Junhui as he holds the cigarette to his lips and wishes the other hadn’t gone and ruined things the way he did. He looked forward to Junhui’s visits, mostly, but not completely because of the sex. There was something in the way Junhui moved and talked and laughed that intrigued Wonwoo. He still felt nothing, but he felt nothing with such a higher intensity when he was around Junhui. And he had to admit, he liked that.

He wonders what would happen if he let Junhui love him, if he pretended they were a normal couple and acted out the part of two people in a relationship. He wonders if they would go on dates and kiss nicely and settle in the suburbs, as normal couples do. But such simplicity of lifestyle is reserved for those with simplicity of mind. Wonwoo reminds himself that he’s too smart for that.

“You know that’s not good for you, sir.”

Wonwoo’s brain short circuits at the sound of Mingyu’s voice. His entire body tenses, slowly filling with anger until he feels like he’s about to burn. “How the fuck would you know what’s good for me?” he hisses, cigarette crushed between his teeth. He turns his head sideways, still not facing Mingyu directly. “You don’t know anything.”

“Yes, sir,” Mingyu exhales, looking far too good in only a loose pair of sweatpants for Wonwoo’s sanity.

Annoyed, Wonwoo taps his fingers against the balcony railing. Mingyu’s eyes follow the way the sunlight reflects off that diamond ring of his boss’, along with the many other bands around his fingers and wrists. Wonwoo takes another drag, purposely blowing smoke in Mingyu’s face. “What do you want?” he asks as he leans back against the railing.

Mingyu coughs. “I j-just wanted to be with you.”

“Well, can’t you see I want to be alone?”

The look on Wonwoo’s face says enough to signal Mingyu that he shouldn’t press any further, shouldn’t try to- “Please, Wonwoo.”

A deep, menacing laugh falls from Wonwoo’s lips as he takes the cigarette out of his mouth and stands up straight. “I told you not to call me that,” he growls, pressing the burning end of his cigarette against Mingyu’s bare chest before dropping it casually on the ground and walking back inside to brush his teeth.

Mingyu can only stand there dumbstruck as his fingers brush over the burn, tears stinging in his eyes. It hurts, of course. But it doesn’t hurt as bad as his heart does.

He picks up Wonwoo’s cigarette and walks over to the edge of the balcony, staring at it angrily. His chest heaves with pain and emotion and in a rush of fury, he throws the white stick over the railing and watches it fall directly into his boss’ extravagant pool, a single stream of smoke escaping the second it hits the water.

It gives him a strange sort of satisfaction to have destroyed something of Wonwoo’s, anything. The burned skin on his chest is only one of many scars and bruises on his body, and in the grand scheme of things, it’s child’s play compared to some of the things he’s had to endure, but Mingyu’s beginning to feel tired of being hurt. And yet, he knows nothing will ever get better.

“What are you still doing outside?” Wonwoo calls a few minutes later, flipping through the stack of money that Min Yoongi paid two days ago.

“Sorry,” Mingyu sighs as he walks back into Wonwoo’s room, closing the glass door behind him. “How much did he pay you?”

Wonwoo sinks into the plush velvet chair on the other side of his bedroom. “Six hundred million won,” he answers, eyes focused only on the dollar bills in his hand. “I had to use some,” he smirks, holding the stack of money under his nose, “Dirtier tactics than I normally have to, but I got him to agree on the amount eventually.”

“You’re so good at that,” Mingyu smiles, sitting down on the armrest of Wonwoo’s chair and resting his chin in his hands. “I’m lucky to be able to work with someone so brilliant.” He slides into Wonwoo’s lap and kisses Wonwoo’s collarbone. “And ambitious.” His lips move up Wonwoo’s neck. “And handsome.” He stops himself just before he realizes that he’s too close to kissing Wonwoo’s lips, something he’s not allowed to do without express permission from his boss. Instead, Mingyu places his hand gently on Wonwoo’s chest and trails it down slowly to play with the tie of his robe. “I’m so lucky,” he repeats, as if to drill the fact in his head.

The sound of the doorbell interrupts Mingyu before he can whisper more sweet lies in Wonwoo’s ear. He can feel Wonwoo tense under him. “You stay up here. I’ll go see who it is,” he says, pushing the younger man off of his lap. He readjusts his robe for modesty’s sake and runs a hand through his hair before exiting the bedroom.

Wonwoo walks down the elegant staircase, trying to get a glimpse of the visitor through the expansive glass windows on either side of the door, but the person is out of view from Wonwoo’s angle. He rolls his head, stretching out the kinks in his neck, then moves to open the door.

“Choi Seungcheol,” Wonwoo nearly gasps, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Wow,” the man in question breathes as he looks Wonwoo up and down. “Look at you.” His eyes flicker to Wonwoo’s exposed chest, the robe once again slipping off his shoulder. “All grown up.”

Wonwoo purses his lips and crosses his arms. “You could say that.” He stiffens as the other man’s detective badge catches his eye. Police and drug lords rarely get along well. “What brings you here?” he asks, voice even and calculated.

“As chief detective, I need to ask you a few questions. Can I come in?”

“Certainly.” A cold sweat overtakes Wonwoo’s body at the realization that a police officer, much less the chief detective, is entering his house, where his drugs are stored, where his dealings are held. One slip up and Wonwoo knows he’s done for.

His eyes follow Seungcheol’s figure as he steps inside. He can’t remember how many years it’s been since he’s last seen him; it had to have been at least six. But in that time, the other grew into a rather handsome man, with dark eyes, full lips, and muscles that were visible even under his work clothes.

Seungcheol gapes at the opulence of Wonwoo’s house, barely able to take in all of the luxury before him at one time. “I knew you were rich,” he says, snapping out of his daze, “But this…” The fact that one man, only a few years younger than himself, can make this much money all on his own makes Seungcheol want to vomit. Wonwoo, the boy he had grown close to all those years ago, the boy that, despite his obvious family wealth, had dreams of his own to be something independent of his father’s company. That was what drew him to Wonwoo, his admirable drive and work ethic. But now, Wonwoo seems indistinguishable from every other playboy billionaire living off mommy and daddy’s money.

“Hard work pays off,” Wonwoo hums as he leads the chief to his parlor. “I apologize,” he says, turning back to face Seungcheol, “I would have dressed more appropriately if I knew I was expecting company.” A small smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s fine.” The way Wonwoo delivered that last sentence sent shivers down Seungcheol’s spine. It was beyond disturbing to see his childhood friend so completely unlike his old self. The Wonwoo he knew was quiet and self conscious, despite his grand ambitions, never wanting to draw unnecessary attention to himself in any way. “I’m sorry that I came on such short notice, but it’s urgent.”

Wonwoo gestures to the various chairs and sofas in the parlor. “Take a seat wherever you’d like,” he instructs, sitting down in one of the antique French sofas.

“Thank you,” Seungcheol nods as he sits in the chair across from Wonwoo.

“So, what’s all this about?” Wonwoo asks.

Seungcheol pulls out a notepad and pen. “There’s been a massive heist at the Museum of Natural History. An exhibit there was showcasing some of the world’s most valuable jewels, and six were stolen last night. Our prime suspect is a man by the name of Wen Junhui. Do you know him?”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenches. He swears, if Junhui set him up last night, he would find the man and kill him with his bare hands. “I do,” he answers stiffly.

“Well,” Seungcheol sighs, “After the jewels were stolen, there were reports of a suspicious-looking man running down the back alleys. Witnesses said he was about six feet tall, thin, and platinum blonde, which matches the limited security footage we got of him. We tracked down and arrested the man about an hour later, but when questioned, he denied stealing the jewels, claiming that he was at Jeon Wonwoo’s house at the time of the crime.” He taps his pen against his thigh and looks up at Wonwoo. “Is this true?”

It would be easy for Wonwoo to fabricate his story to defend Jun. After all, they were so close for so long. But the fact that Junhui would bring up his name to the police makes Wonwoo question if he was just using him the entire time to create his own alibi. And Wonwoo isn’t one to be outsmarted. “When was the crime committed?” he asks, adjusting his robe.

“Footage from the museum showed that the jewels were stolen at 2:36 AM.”

“He wasn’t here at that time,” Wonwoo replies, trying hard to contain the smile threatening to spread across his face. “He left at about 1 AM. My security system keeps a record of every time the door is opened, and I have cameras monitoring the premises as well. If you’d like, I can show them to you.”

Seungcheol writes something down in his notes and nods. “That would be a great help.”

Wonwoo stands up. “I shouldn’t be long,” he says before he walks out, closing the double doors behind him.

The chief detective lets out a sigh as he finds himself staring at the door for far too long after Wonwoo’s walked out. It feels like a bad dream, or like he’s in an alternate universe; he barely recognizes Jeon Wonwoo anymore. The man is certainly him- those eyes haven’t changed- but everything else from his jawline and cheekbones, to his impressive height, to the constant smirk that’s on his lips, seems as though it belongs to someone else.

He also wonders what someone like Wen Junhui was doing at his house, especially at such a late hour. While he hates to admit it, the entire situation seems a little too suspicious for Seungcheol’s liking.

“Here are the records,” Wonwoo says as he walks in, holding a yellow envelope. He hands them to Seungcheol and sits back down, leaning against the sofa armrest.

Inside the envelope are two pieces of paper. One is a list of times that Wonwoo’s front door was opened, and the second is a printed still of camera footage. The photograph clearly shows Wen Junhui leaving Wonwoo’s house at 1:08 AM, as proven by the timestamp, and there’s a matching time on the door record as well. Seungcheol takes some more notes. “Thank you for bringing me these. I see you’re right about Junhui leaving before the time of the crime.”

“Did you doubt me?” Wonwoo asks, expression unreadable.

“Uh,” Seungcheol stammers. Truthfully, he did doubt Wonwoo, if only a little. The fact that he had transformed into this whole new self made it hard for Seungcheol to trust him anymore. “It’s standard procedure. I needed evidence.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Of course you did.”

“Do you mind telling me why Wen Junhui was at your house last night?” The detective asks, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible.

“He came to have sex with me. And then he left. Simple as that,” Wonwoo frowns. The mention of Junhui brings back all kinds of unpleasant memories that Wonwoo can’t bother to deal with at the moment.

A dark blush spreads across Seungcheol’s face at Wonwoo’s answer. “I see,” he coughs. Definitely not the same Wonwoo. “And did he, by chance, mention anything that led you to be suspicious?”

Wonwoo chuckles, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you think we were sitting and chatting the whole time?” He grins at Seungcheol’s discomfort. “You really need to get laid more often, Cheol. I can fix that,” he adds in a low voice.

At this point, Seungcheol just wants to be struck with sudden amnesia, or better yet, struck by lightning. Wonwoo was like a younger brother to him, and here he is unashamedly trying to seduce him. “Come on, Wonwoo,” he says as he closes his eyes. “So you’re saying Junhui didn’t raise any suspicions at all?”

“No.”

Seungcheol clears his throat and shakes his head. “Are you sure?”

“Are you insinuating that I had a hand in this crime, Seungcheol?” Wonwoo sneers, narrowing his eyes. “Because I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s Chief Choi to you,” Seungcheol spits back, growing angrier by the second. “I earned my title through years of dedication and commitment to my job, and I appreciate it if you’d use it.” Regardless of how much he cared for Wonwoo when they were younger, he’s not about to let this boy disrespect everything he’s worked so hard for.

Wonwoo raises his chin. “And it’s Mr. Jeon to you,” he replies, deathly serious. “I’ve worked just as hard as-”

“You don’t know anything about working hard, Jeon Wonwoo. Everything you have,” he motions to the large chandelier overhead, “You’ve inherited from your father.” The chief raises his voice as he leans toward Wonwoo. “People like you have the whole world in their hands from the day they’re born. They can do anything and be anyone without any consequences. But for a while there, when we were teenagers, I thought you were different. I thought you were going to forge your own path and do something great all by yourself.” He laughs bitterly to himself. “Guess I was wrong.”

It takes Wonwoo a few moments to respond. He’s too stunned by the fact that someone would have the audacity to speak to him in such a manner that he’s temporarily lost for words. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you,” he whispers, absentmindedly fidgeting with his ring. “You’ll never know me, Choi Seungcheol. Maybe you did at one point, but I’m not the boy I used to be.” He looks around the room and stands up again. “I believe we’re done here,” he states, pointing to the exit.

“Yes, I believe so,” Seungcheol grunts. He grabs the papers from the table and walks out, retaining his composure as best as he can.

When he gets in his car, he throws his head against the seat and lets out a loud scream, clutching his face with his hands. Wonwoo’s words echo in his head over and over again. He’s right, though, Seungcheol thinks to himself. He’s not the boy he used to be. He’s something entirely new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! sorry I left y’all hanging for the last few days- life has been crazy! Worse yet, there’s a hurricane coming in the next day or so (bureora hurricane!!!!), so I might be without power for a few days, meaning the next update might be a little slow. I promise it won’t be too long! 
> 
> but if u just can’t get enough of yours truly, you can always follow me on tumblr @thesoapclub ;)
> 
> also (like a view to a kill) the chapter titles are from the song die another day from the James Bond movie of the same name. aaaaalso check out the playlist I linked at the beginning of the first chapter!!!
> 
> a crazy amount of love,  
> hedgehogwatch


	7. for every sin i'll have to pay

“Mr. Jeon, if you don’t mind my asking, who was that?”

 

Wonwoo looks up to see Hansol standing behind him, concern written all over his face. “It’s nothing,” he sighs. “Just someone I used to know.”

 

Hansol frowns and moves to sit down on the other end of the sofa Wonwoo’s sitting on. “Are you sure you’re okay, sir? You seem sad,” he hums, tilting his head to the side. “You’re always welcome to talk to me if you’d like.” He gives his boss a sympathetic smile.

 

“Are you my counselor or something now?” Wonwoo asks, raising an eyebrow. His tone is condescending, but doesn’t carry the weight it normally does, as if he’s not completely opposed to the idea.

 

The younger shrugs. “If you’d like me to be.”

 

Wonwoo opens his mouth, then closes it, debating whether to tell Hansol or not. Normally, he wouldn’t dream of sharing details about his personal life with his staff, but there’s something special about Hansol that gives him a special place in Wonwoo’s mind. “It’s just,” he begins, mouth betraying his better judgement, “Junhui’s up to something. The only reason he came last night was to grant himself an alibi for the crime he committed shortly after. He told the police he was here at the time of the crime, and I know he brought up my name to raise suspicion on me too.” Wonwoo laughs, shaking his head. “The nerve of that bastard.”

 

“That’s terrible,” Hansol gasps. “The police aren’t,” he looks around nervously, “Suspicious of us, are they?”

 

“Us?” Hansol grimaces as he realizes his slip of the tongue. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t press any further. “No, they’re not. I didn’t even have to lie. Junhui wasn’t here, and he didn’t tell me anything about his crime.” 

 

Hansol nods slowly, neatly folding his hands in his lap. “That’s good.” A twisted smile spreads across his face suddenly. “I do have something to tell you, though, Mr. Jeon,” he says, the glint in his eyes hinting at something devious.

 

“About?”

 

“Mingyu.”

 

That seems to do the trick, as Wonwoo snaps his head to look Hansol straight in the eye. “What about Mingyu?” he asks lowly, subconsciously scanning the room for his assistant’s presence.

 

“Well, he told me some interesting things the other day,” Hansol says far too happily. “Interesting things about you,” he adds.

 

A scowl settles on Wonwoo’s face, then quickly fades into blankness. Wonwoo straightens his posture, trying his best to look unaffected. “I’m listening.”

 

“Oh, he just went  _ on and on _ about how he wishes you treated him better, how he can’t escape because he knows you’ll find him and kill him, and how great you are in bed.” He takes note of the tension in Wonwoo’s body, slight, but visible to the trained eye. “And I told him that he shouldn’t talk like that about his boss, and that you’re better to him than anyone else could be, but you know Mingyu,” he chuckles. “Stubborn.”

 

“Why are you telling me this, Hansol,” Wonwoo asks, eyeing the other suspiciously.

 

Hansol holds up his hands defensively, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean anything by it, honest. It’s just, if Junhui betrayed you like that so easily, who’s to say Mingyu won’t either? If he’s unhappy here, then it’s not out of the question to suspect he’s plotting something.” 

 

“And what about you? Are you unhappy?” Wonwoo asks, raising his chin to look down at Hansol. 

 

The other just grins. “No, sir. I’m very, very happy here. Like I told Mingyu, he doesn’t realize how good he has it.”

 

“Then why would it matter to you what Mingyu thinks unless you’re trying to get something out of it?” Wonwoo challenges him. 

 

Hansol bites his lip as he realizes his fatal flaw. In his mind, things would work out perfectly; he’d rat out Mingyu, Wonwoo would get angry at Mingyu, Wonwoo would kick Mingyu out, then he’d be the favorite. But he certainly didn’t expect this. “I… I was just letting you know, sir.” He wrings his hands together. “I was looking out for you,” he mumbles. 

 

Wonwoo scoffs. “I can look after myself, thank you.” He clicks his tongue before standing up and walking over to Hansol. His fingers slide under the other’s chin, tilting it upward and forcing their eyes to meet. “I’m going to let this go this one time,” he breathes, “But next time you try to manipulate me to get preferential treatment or something, you’ll be out of a job.”

 

The younger man struggles to look his boss in the eye. He can’t bring himself to admit that his plan failed, and now, Wonwoo undoubtedly sees him as a petty, scheming brat, far from the capable and intelligent man he wished the other saw him as. “Yes, sir,” he chokes. Slowly, though, the cocky smile returns. “There is one more thing, though.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Mingyu’s having an affair with Jeonghan.”

 

***

 

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu sits at his desk, filling out paperwork for the company and affixing each sheet with his pretty signature. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, stretched across his broad shoulders, and Wonwoo can’t help but think of the muscles underneath. With every movement of Mingyu’s hand, his shoulders flex, captivating Wonwoo’s attention for just a little too long. Physically, the younger man is so strong, and yet Wonwoo knows that inside, he’s incredibly fragile and dependant. He knows that’s the reason Mingyu stays. Wonwoo is certain he’s had a considerable hand in breaking him down, but he can’t help it. He needs someone that needs him more in order to prevent any potential dissent, and Mingyu needs Wonwoo more than anything. That’s precisely why he can’t fire him.

 

He walks over to Mingyu’s desk and sits down on top of it, moving the papers out of the way. “How are the figures looking this month?” Wonwoo asks, a hint of playfulness dancing on his lips. 

 

“M-Mr. Jeon,” Mingyu stammers, dropping his pen. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you.”

 

Wonwoo chuckles deeply. “I know you weren’t.”

 

“Can I help you with anything sir?” Mingyu’s voice shakes as he speaks, unsure of why his boss would possibly want to see him at the moment. 

 

“Come here, please,” he calls, getting up off the table and walking to Mingyu’s bed. He lays down on the soft mattress and waves his hand over the spot next to him, inviting Mingyu to accompany him. 

 

Mingyu hesitates for a moment, unsure of whether this is some kind of trap or test. Normally, when Wonwoo wants to have sex he just pushes him against the wall. Rarely does he ask so nicely, and never does he use the word ‘please.’ Cautiously, he steps over to his bed and sits down, careful not to get too close to Wonwoo. “Yes, sir?” he asks quietly, hugging his knees into his chest. 

 

“How are you, Mingyu?” Wonwoo asks, tilting his head as though he’s actually interested in the answer. 

 

“I… I’m fine, sir.”

 

Wonwoo inches closer to Mingyu and takes hold of his shoulders, gently rolling the younger on his back. He runs the back of his hand down the side of Mingyu’s face, trailing it down his neck. “Really? Is that so?” he hums, teasing open the top button of Mingyu’s shirt.

 

Mingyu swallows, heat rising in his cheeks. “Y-yes, sir.”

 

“That’s interesting.” Wonwoo leans in to nibble at Mingyu’s earlobe, dragging his lips down to the other’s strong jawline. He leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses across the tanned skin before moving back upward to Mingyu’s cheek, Mingyu’s nose, then to the corner of Mingyu’s lips. Wonwoo pauses for a second, lips just barely brushing the other’s. “‘Cause I heard you’ve been talking shit about me,” he murmurs, bringing a hand up to wrap around Mingyu’s neck. 

 

His assistant takes in a shallow breath, eyes wide with fear. “W-what?” he gasps. “No, I didn’t… I promise-”

 

“Don’t,” Wonwoo growls, tightening his grip on Mingyu’s neck, “Lie to me.” He watches as Mingyu struggles underneath, trying to pry Wonwoo’s fingers off of him. “Hansol told me everything, so save your breath.”

 

Mingyu’s eyes begin to water, both from his inability to breathe and his dread of what was surely to come. “P-please,” he chokes.

 

Wonwoo moves his hands to grip Mingyu’s biceps, ignoring the coughing and sputtering from the younger. “So you’re unhappy here?” he sneers, pressing his fingers against Mingyu’s arms so hard that the other can already feel the bruises forming. “That’s just so strange that you’d say that,” Wonwoo snarls as he digs his nails into Mingyu’s skin. “When I treat you so nicely!”

 

“I’m-I’m sorry, sir!” Mingyu whimpers. Instinctively, he reaches up to place his hands against Wonwoo’s chest. “I’ll do anything, I promise. It was wrong of me, a-and I should be so grateful for everything you’ve done-”

 

He’s silenced by the back of Wonwoo’s hand against his cheek. “I don’t want to hear it, Mingyu!” he screams. “How  _ dare _ you say that I’m not good to you?! No one will ever treat you better than I can! I don’t know if you’re too stupid to realize this, but if it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead!” 

 

Mingyu closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing again. His face stings from where Wonwoo hit him, and his shoulders ache from where Wonwoo grabbed him, and his neck hurts from where Wonwoo choked him, and he can’t forget the burn from this morning.  _ It’ll all be over soon _ , he tells himself over and over. 

 

“I’ve given you everything, Mingyu, and  _ this _ is how you repay me? I don’t even have to be good to you, you know? I could easily treat you just like they did in your gang! Shit, I could just kill you right now and no one would even care! But no, I’ve treated you far better than I should have for far too long, and I think it’s about time you learned where you stand.” Wonwoo grabs Mingyu’s arm again, drags him to his feet, and throws him against the nearest wall. 

 

It takes every ounce of determination in Mingyu’s body to not cry. He can barely think due to the unimaginable pain in his head from hitting the wall so hard, but he can still remember that Wonwoo will only be more forceful if he shows weakness. “Yes, sir,” he replies between ragged breaths. 

 

Wonwoo only scoffs and slams the taller man’s shoulders against the wall. “You’re nothing without me,” he hisses, grabbing Mingyu by the collar of his shirt. “Nothing! You don’t have any family, any friends!” He reaches up to pull sharply at Mingyu’s hair, forcing the younger’s head back. “You don’t even have a real name,” he whispers. “So next time you wanna say something bad about me,  _ think twice _ .” Swiftly, Wonwoo lands a devastating blow to Mingyu’s face, causing the other to scream in pain.

 

Blood drips from Mingyu’s lip as he falls to the floor, sliding against the wall. He’s tried his best until this point, but he can’t stop himself from crying now. Tears slide down his cheek, stinging his already-burning eyes, as he looks up at Wonwoo, who’s just standing there looking down at him. “Yes, sir,” he rasps.

 

There’s a short moment of stillness between them before Wonwoo kicks Mingyu’s ribs with his black leather Gucci loafers. Mingyu hates those shoes more than anything; they’re always the most painful. His body is numb for a few seconds, but slowly he feels the pain spreading from his chest to his extremities. At least one of his ribs is broken or fractured, he’s sure, and he can’t feel his entire right arm. He doesn’t panic, though. It could be worse- he could be dead.

 

Wonwoo bends down to Mingyu’s level and chuckles. “And don’t think I don’t know about you and Jeonghan, you slut,” he says, caressing his assistant’s face with mock tenderness.

 

Without another word, he walks out of the door, slamming it behind him and leaving Mingyu alone and broken. Every breath, every heartbeat hurts Mingyu’s body. He can’t even process thoughts anymore, he’s in so much pain. The only thing he can feel is the warm flow of blood and tears down his chin and neck. His eyes slowly flutter closed, and he almost wishes that he won’t wake up.

 

But he does, some period of time later, in Wonwoo’s bed. Mingyu stiffens at the sight of his boss, memories of their most recent interaction piercing through the haze that his brain is at the moment. 

 

“Shh, don’t worry, Mingyu,” Wonwoo murmurs, gently stroking Mingyu’s hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you, I promise.”

 

Mingyu doesn’t move. Normally, he would be ecstatic at even the slightest show of affection from Wonwoo, but if the last time was anything to go by, it’s just another trap, and he’s about to get beaten some more. He glances down to see that he’s not only wearing fresh clothes, but Wonwoo’s clothes, judging by the quality of the material and the tight fit. “Thank you,” he mumbles, looking back up at Wonwoo.

 

“It was the least I could do,” he says as he picks up a cold pack from his nightstand and holds it to Mingyu’s neck. “Are you still hurting?”

 

The younger nods. “Yes, sir.” He winces at the feeling of the ice against his bruised skin. “But it’s okay. You don’t need to worry about me.”

 

“I know,” Wonwoo shrugs. “But I’m good to you, remember? And this is what good people do.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out three red pills. “Here,” he says as he holds his hand out, “Take these. You’ll feel better.”

 

Mingyu wants to take the pills and throw them in Wonwoo’s face and scream at him. He wants to inflict double the damage Wonwoo has inflicted upon him. He wants to make Wonwoo feel his pain, physically and mentally, to make him feel worthless like he’s been made to feel worthless. But he’s not about to endure more abuse right now. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it,” he smiles weakly. 

 

Wonwoo shakes his head as Mingyu swallows the pills. “Mingyu,” he sighs, “You know that’s what happens when you go and do shit like that.” He runs his thumb across Mingyu’s cheekbone. “Promise me you won’t do it again, okay baby?”

 

“Y-yes, sir,” Mingyu exhales, closing his eyes. As much as he wants to pretend like he doesn’t enjoy this side of Wonwoo, he really does. “I promise.”

 

Thin arms wrap around Mingyu’s waist, pulling him close. “Good. Because I need you. I need you to be loyal to me.” Softly, Wonwoo rubs circles into the younger’s back, ignoring Mingyu’s faint whimpers of pain when he touches a bruise or sensitive spot.

 

Mingyu nuzzles his head in Wonwoo’s chest. “You’re too good to me.”

 

“I am.” Wonwoo brushes back some of Mingyu’s hair and presses a light kiss to his forehead. “So tell me you’re thankful.”

 

“I’m so thankful. And grateful. You’ve done so much for me,” Mingyu says, kissing along Wonwoo’s jawline.

 

Wonwoo hums. “Tell me you need me.”

 

“I need you, sir.”

 

“Tell me you’re mine.”

 

The words feel like poison in Mingyu’s mouth. He belongs to no one, but especially not Wonwoo. Not after the way he treats him. He doesn’t want to relent and give Wonwoo what he wants. Wonwoo doesn’t deserve that. But what choice does he have?

 

“I’m yours,” Mingyu smiles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh i know that was really really sad!!!! i'm sorry!!! but hopefully it should give some insight into why mingyu would help joshua kill wonwoo... also hansol is a SNAKE HISS HISS
> 
> we're getting closer to the end here, but there should be about 2 or so chapters left! also there might be a little surprise coming up for a view to a kill... stay tuned ;)
> 
> as always, thank you so much for reading and commenting. the comments really make my day, and i am so happy that people enjoy this story and series. i hope to write some more in the future, so this is not the last of me! the next update should be pretty soon!
> 
> one. two. three. FOLLOW ME ON TUMBLR @THESOAPCLUB! thank you.
> 
> looooooooooove,  
> hedgehogwatch


	8. i'm gonna suspend my senses

“Can I help you?” drawls the boy at the front desk, furiously typing away on his computer. 

 

Wonwoo steps closer to the desk, looking around suspiciously before he leans in. “I’m here to see Yoon Jeonghan,” he says in a hushed voice. There are only about five other people in the office building’s reception area, all plain, ordinary-looking businessmen and women in cheap suits and blouses, far from the lavish black fur coat and red velvet gloves Wonwoo is wearing. 

 

The mention of Jeonghan’s name causes the receptionist to freeze. Surreptitiously, he motions for Wonwoo to come closer. “Can I get your name, sir?” he whispers.

 

“Look,” Wonwoo sighs, drumming his fingers on the counter. He glances down at the boy’s name tag before meeting his eyes again. “Seungkwan, is it? Jeonghan is my client, and he’s expecting me right now. So do me a favor and tell me the floor and suite number of his office, and both of us can go along on our separate ways.” 

 

“I would, sir. But,” Seungkwan bites his lip and casts a look at the people sitting in the waiting area, “We’ve had to increase security measures. Some of these people are here for actual work, and Mr. Yoon doesn’t want to risk anything. Please, if you can just tell me your name, and I’ll see if you’re on the list.”

 

It’s true, Wonwoo remembers. Jeonghan had mentioned something about some of the other office tenants confronting him about his peculiar hours and questionable clientele. Considering the things he’s here for, and the fact that he has a reputation to uphold, Wonwoo decides to err on the side of caution. “Mind if I just write my name down on a piece of paper? I don’t want people hearing,” he says as he picks up a sticky note and takes out a solid gold pen from his coat pocket.

 

“Of course.” As soon as Wonwoo hands him the paper, Seungkwan’s eyes widen. Slowly, he nods to himself, as if putting two and two together in his head. “Go right ahead, sir. Mr. Yoon is on the fifteenth floor, suite 1317.”

 

Wonwoo bows his head in thanks and walks toward the elevator. He can feel the weight of people’s stares on him, his opulent clothing a jarring contrast to the bland, dingy interior of the reception area. Normally, Wonwoo lived for such attention to the point where he could get drunk on it. But some incessant feeling in the back of his mind prevents him from being at ease. It could be several things, Mingyu’s expressed displeasure with his job, Hansol’s scheming, Junhui in general, or perhaps it’s a premature moral conflict with the sins he’s about to commit. Whatever it is, he doesn’t like it.

 

A hesitant finger presses the cold, faux brass button for the elevator, and Wonwoo tries his best to ignore those distressing thoughts. But the calm doesn’t last for long as memories from earlier that day resurface of Mingyu dripping with blood, crying out in pain. Guilt wouldn’t be the right term to describe the feeling swirling in Wonwoo’s mind, but rather disquietude. He doesn’t regret what he did to Mingyu; he deserved it. However, a chill runs through Wonwoo’s spine as he realizes he might have just added fuel to Mingyu’s fire, giving him even more reason to be unhappy with him. 

 

He doesn’t have too long to explore that idea any further, as the elevator arrives just in time. Quickly, Wonwoo slips inside and presses the button for the fifteenth floor, grateful that no one else will be accompanying him for the ride.

 

Jeonghan’s floor is just as he remembers it, dimly-lit and chilly. Every crack in the wall- there are several- oozes suspicion, exactly the kind of place one would suspect a crime boss would work. Various puddles of water have pooled on the concrete floors, and Wonwoo has to vigilantly watch his step to avoid ruining his fur-trimmed loafers. He can barely make out the suite numbers in the flickering industrial lights, but eventually, he finds suite 1317 at the very end of the long corridor of doors. 

 

Wonwoo knocks twice, pauses, then knocks four more times, the pattern they’d agreed upon earlier. Within a few seconds, the door creaks open, revealing a young man around Wonwoo’s age, with a tall, slender build, delicate features, and soft lavender hair. Wonwoo can’t help but notice the irony of someone so beautiful in such an ugly place, but more so at the fact that this man, who looks as though he descended from heaven, would certainly be sent straight to Hell were this the Judgement Day. 

 

“Well, if it isn’t tall, dark, and handsome,” the man chuckles, opening the door wider for Wonwoo to walk in. “I must say, I’m honored. I’m always needing one thing or another from you, but never did I think I’d see the day when Jeon Wonwoo needed something from  _ me _ .”

 

The younger man clears his throat. “Is he here, Jeonghan?”

 

“Aw,” Jeonghan pouts, closing the door behind him. “What’s the rush?” He glides over to Wonwoo and drapes his arms lazily around the drug lord’s neck. “I was hoping maybe we’d have a little fun before we got to the boring stuff.” He moves one hand to walk his fingers up Wonwoo’s chest and tug at his shirt collar. “Our guest isn’t going anywhere, not the way he’s tied up. Of course, you can always tie me up too, if you want,” he murmurs, lips brushing Wonwoo’s neck.

 

Wonwoo’s gloved fingers thread through Jeonghan’s silky hair. “I’ll take you up on that offer another time. I’m here for business, remember?” he says almost hesitantly. 

 

Jeonghan reaches up to unbutton the first button of Wonwoo’s shirt, moving downward at a cruelly slow pace. “You know,” he hums, “All work and no play makes a boring man. And besides,” he runs his fingertips over Wonwoo’s bare chest, “This  _ is _ business, isn’t it?”

 

“Then let’s get to it.” Wonwoo places his hands on Jeonghan’s shoulders and bends him back against the large wooden desk behind them, kicking the rolling chair out of the way. His lips are ravenous against Jeonghan’s, moving with an ardent ferocity that makes the lavender-haired man gasp. 

 

“I thought you were a gentleman,” Jeonghan breathes as he pulls away for air.

 

Wonwoo chuckles, nipping at Jeonghan’s lower lip. “Doesn’t mean I’m gentle.” He steadies his hands on either side of Jeonghan’s head before kissing him again, pushing his tongue past Jeonghan’s lips and claiming every inch of the other’s mouth as his own. The crime boss tilts his head back to give Wonwoo better access and wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s neck to pull him closer. 

 

As Wonwoo runs his tongue along Jeonghan’s lower lip, the shorter man has to anchor his hands in Wonwoo’s hair, pulling at it sharply as he travels down to Jeonghan’s jaw. He arches his back against the desk and sucks in a deep breath. “No kidding,” Jeonghan laughs breathlessly as Wonwoo begins to bite at his neck. The soft whimpers and whines quickly turn deep and needy as Wonwoo bites harder, sinking his teeth into fair skin. He pushes Wonwoo’s fur coat and shirt off so that he can scrape his nails down the other’s back. “Mm, you’re so hot, Wonwoo,” Jeonghan purrs in Wonwoo’s ear. 

 

The taller man’s lips curl up in a smirk. “You think so?” He places a hand on Jeonghan’s right knee, slowly dragging his fingers up the other’s leg. Jeonghan lets out a low groan as Wonwoo’s fingers creep along his inner thigh, leaving only teasing touches as his hand slides under Jeonghan’s shirt and up his chest.

 

“A-are you like this with everyone?” Jeonghan pants, melting at the feeling of velvet gloves against heated skin. 

 

The younger purses his lips in thought as he pulls his hand out from under Jeonghan’s shirt. “Depends.” Suddenly, he presses Jeonghan’s shoulders harder into the desk, to the point where the other hisses in pain. “Am I better than Mingyu, though?” he murmurs against Jeonghan’s cheek. 

 

Jeonghan’s muscles tense under Wonwoo’s hands, but he manages to keep a poker face. “No,” he grins, tracing Wonwoo’s face with his fingertips. “Mingyu has a nice body, but he’s a little too submissive for my tastes. Put two needy people together, and not much gets done other than a whole bunch of whining.” He meets Wonwoo’s eyes as he strokes the other’s bottom lip. “You on the other hand…”

 

Wonwoo swats Jeonghan’s hand away from his face and grabs hold of his chin. “If you don’t stay away from Mingyu, I’ll kill you in cold blood, and then I might just kill you again to make my point clear.” Gently, he trails his index finger down Jeonghan’s jaw and tilts his chin upward. “Am I understood?” he whispers.

 

“Too bad,” Jeonghan swallows, trying his best to keep an unaffected facade. “Mingyu really was a nice lay.”

 

“Well he’s  _ my _ lay, so if you want to keep that face of yours looking so damn pretty, I’d suggest you find someone else for a good time.”

 

The weight of Wonwoo’s gaze bears down on Jeonghan with even more force than that of his hands. While he would never back down to any of his clients, Jeon Wonwoo is the exception. As much as he tries to resist, the man has an undeniable power over him, just as he does over everyone he meets. He’s envied Wonwoo’s ability to case everyone under his spell, even trying to employ similar tactics himself. But whatever it is that the other possesses has to be inhuman, Jeonghan thinks. “Yes, sir,” he mumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back! (hint: it's me)  
> so things are heating up here! and more importantly, the end is near! this should end up being 10 chapters in total, btw. also, like i said... stay tuned for a surprise for a view to a kill ;)
> 
> also i broke my finger this morning so typing is a little inconvenient, and the next chapter might not be posted until later this week. but who knows??
> 
> thank you all for being such wonderful stars in my universe <3 please feel free to comment and/or leave kudos it makes my day! also....u know what 2 do... follow me on tumblr @thesoapclub... 
> 
> an unbelievably large amount of love,  
> hedgehogwatch


	9. i'm gonna keep this secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh! i'm not dead, i promise! i broke my finger (andstartedworkingonanotherfanfichehehe) so things have been a little slow, but here it is! also, just a warning- this chapter has some violence, blood mentions, and disturbing themes, so i wanted to give y'all a heads up. all that's left after this is the epilogue!! can't believe this will be over so soon! but i've got more stuff cookin' just y'all wait ;)
> 
> 1, 2, 3... FOLLOW ME ON TUMBLR @THESOAPCLUB!
> 
> so much love you wouldn't believe,  
> hedgehogwatch

 

As Jeonghan leads Wonwoo to his office, the drug lord can notice that much of the charm and swagger from before has been since subdued to the point where Jeonghan looks almost afraid. His footsteps are light and cautious, and his neck bears a visible amount of tension. “He’s right in here,” Jeonghan grins as he swings open the door. 

 

Inside, all of the lights are off, only the faint moonlight drifting onto the cheap furniture and dated carpeting. Much like the rest of the building, it’s entirely unremarkable, save for the fact that there’s a man tied up in the corner. Wonwoo can’t help but crack a small smile when he sees the man struggle upon sight of him. Slowly, he stalks over to the man, crouching down to his level once he reaches him. He runs a hand over the other’s face, and he can feel fresh scabs forming on otherwise smooth skin.

 

“Hi, Cheol,” Wonwoo chuckles. Seungcheol’s eyes widen dramatically as he recognizes his old friend. He tries to shout, to scream, but only muffled sounds could be heard on account of the gag. 

 

Jeonghan quickly bounces over and slides into their prisoner’s lap, wrapping an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulders as he turns to face Wonwoo. “So, hot stuff, what do you think?” He giggles, combing fingers through the other’s thick black hair. “‘Aint he cute? You really have good taste in friends, I gotta say.”

 

The corners of Wonwoo’s lips turn up ever so slightly as he stands up and pulls Jeonghan’s desk chair over to sit down in it. He runs his tongue across his upper teeth as he looks down at Seungcheol, tears brimming in the elder’s eyes. “You, no doubt, have several questions. Thankfully, I’m here to shed a little light on the subject. Is there anything in particular you want to know?”

 

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow, flickering down to the white cloth tied around his mouth.

 

“Oh, that’s right,” Wonwoo grins. “I almost forgot.” He waves to Jeonghan. “Take the gag off. Leave everything else on.”

 

“Sure thing, boss,” the other winks, untying the gag with dainty fingers.

 

Seungcheol takes a desperate breath once he’s free. He coughs as he exhales, breathing shallow and irregular. “Wonwoo…” he rasps, biting back tears. “What… Who are you? What happened to you?”

 

The man in question arches a dark brow. “What happened to me?” He laughs in condescension. “Time changes people, Cheol. Just because you left doesn’t mean that I stayed the same. That’s a terribly selfish way to think, don’t you agree?”

 

“I don’t get it.” Seungcheol shakes his head in disbelief. “You… You had everything: the perfect life, the perfect family-”

 

Under the surface, Wonwoo’s blood boils. Few topics have the power to throw him off balance, but his family is certainly one of them. It’s fine when he’s rehearsed his lines, praising his father and his business ethic, but for someone to bring it up when Wonwoo is off guard is an almost certain death sentence. “And what makes you think that?” he asks calmly, expertly masking his rage.

 

It takes Seungcheol a moment to really think about it. “You had all the money in the world. Your parents were rich, and famous, and successful, and they loved you-”

 

“Jeonghan,” Wonwoo hums, cutting Seungcheol off. “Hurt him.”

 

Jeonghan nods happily and reaches in his pants for a pocket knife. Carefully, he opens it, taking a few moments to inspect the shiny blade. “The louder you scream, the deeper I’ll cut, so I’d suggest you shut up,” he smiles as he lightly drags the tip of the knife along Seungcheol’s collarbone. “Aw, don’t cry. I promise it could be a lot worse,” he says, watching the tears roll down the chief of police’s cheeks. 

 

“Seungcheol, do you think money equates to happiness?” Wonwoo crosses one leg over the other and leans back in his chair, simply watching the display in front of him.

 

“Don’t try to lecture me on happiness, Wonwoo. You don’t know anything about happiness, judging by the way your life’s turned out.” Seungcheol bares his teeth, trying his best to seem powerful, despite his restraints.

 

Wonwoo bites his lip, just barely managing to keep his compusure. “Well, let me tell you that there’s little happiness in being the bastard son of two people who couldn’t afford to let their secret slip.” He straightens his posture and drums his fingertips on his thigh. “You see, my father was a very good businessman because he was in control of everything. No detail went unnoticed by him, no matter how small. There was only one thing he didn’t have complete power over- his wife. She cheated on him on multiple occasions, but on one fateful night, she conceived a child from another man. When he found out she was pregnant, it was too late; everyone knew, and to create a scandal would ruin the company’s reputation. So they decided to claim that the baby was theirs. My father hated that child. It reminded him of his wife’s infidelity every time he laid eyes on it. So he decided to have a biological child of his own with his wife, just to ensure that the company stayed within  _ his _ lineage.”

 

Seungcheol opens his mouth in subsequent confusion and disbelief. “A-are you trying to say that-”

 

“I’m not finished speaking,” Wonwoo hisses. “They raised both boys, but showered love and affection on their own while they shunned the bastard. Five years later, their son fell in their large swimming pool and died, leaving the bastard as their only heir. They had no choice but to treat him well, at least in the public eye, as no one knew of his true origins.” He lowers his head, eyes losing focus and growing cold. 

 

“But they never loved him. Never. So the boy took advantage of his ‘father’s’ large supply of drugs and started selling them to his fellow high schoolers in the abandoned science classroom so that he could raise enough money to move out once he graduated. Eventually, he began dealing with a more sophisticated clientele who could offer him more money that he’d ever imagined. It was then that he realized he couldn’t completely separate himself from his parents; he needed the drugs. So one day, he held a gun to the head of that horrible excuse for a human he’d called “father” and forced him to will the company to him.” Wonwoo raises his chin threateningly, voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “Then he pulled the trigger.”

 

It’s all too much for Seungcheol to process. His best childhood friend just confessed to being a drug lord and a murderer, much less the murderer of his own father. And yet, Wonwoo has the nerve to try to draw some sort of pity from him by divulging his backstory. “Are you trying to get me to sympathize with you, Wonwoo? When you’ve got me tied up?” When he sees that Wonwoo elicits no visible response, he decides to strike. “Do you think that ruining other people’s lives will make yours any better?” He scoffs. “You think you’re real powerful, don’t you? Well, all I can see is a selfish, spoiled boy who would rather blame the rest of the world for his problems than look inside and acknowledge his flaws!” Normally, he’d stay quiet and obedient in such a situation, but the fiery rush of emotion inside of him, and perhaps the fear and adrenaline from being cut, spurs him on past the realm of reasonable behavior. That, and the fact that a part of him doesn’t believe Wonwoo himself has it in him to hurt him.

 

Wonwoo narrows his eyes, leaning forward to glare at Seungcheol. “How dare you call me a boy?”

 

“Well then, what are you?” Seungcheol growls, struggling in his ties. “You’re certainly not a man! You’re a monster! How the fuck did I not see that in you when we were young?”

 

The sharp sensation of Wonwoo’s hand hitting his cheek effectively shuts Seungcheol up. “One more word from you,” the drug lord whispers through gritted teeth, gripping the other’s chin tightly, “And I’ll make you wish you were dead.” He takes off his gloves, moves his hand down to the dip of Seungcheol’s collarbone, just before the start of his cut, and digs his finger into the bloody wound. Steadily, he trails his finger across the length of the gash, ignoring the pained screams escaping Seungcheol’s mouth. “Have I made myself clear?” he asks, repeating the motion the other way. 

 

All Seungcheol can do is nod. The pain is beyond excruciating, but the fact that _ Jeon Wonwoo,  _ of all people, is his torturer makes it unbearable. Wonwoo’s skin looks healthy and smooth, no wrinkles or lines in sight, and his features, though certainly matured, still retain a youthful softness. His appearance is too similar to that of his fifteen-year old self, so much so that Seungcheol thinks he’s going to be sick.

 

“Good,” Wonwoo smiles. He stands up and walks over to the other side of the room to grab a paper towel and clean off his hands. The second Wonwoo leaves, Jeonghan scurries back into Seungcheol’s lap, idly playing with the other’s hair. “So, as for why I had you brought here today...” Wonwoo says, making his way back to the chair he was sitting in earlier. “I need something from you, and you will comply with my request.”

 

“What do you want?” Seungcheol all but spits.

 

Wonwoo reclines back in his chair and cocks his head to the side arrogantly. “I need to kill someone. And I need the police to turn a blind eye to it. Can you do that for me, Cheol?”

 

The nickname sounds like the most vulgar of words when it comes out of Wonwoo’s mouth. “No way in hell!” Seungcheol shouts.

 

The younger man nods to Jeonghan. “Kick him.”

 

Always eager to please, Jeonghan delivers a swift kick to Seungcheol’s ribs. The chief of police bites back a cry, holding desperately onto whatever pride he has left. “Come on, sweetie. You’ve gotta be tougher than that,” Jeonghan pouts. “I’m gonna try this again, and this time, you can’t look so sad about it.” Once more, the crime boss kicks him, even harder than the last time. Seungcheol squeezes his eyes shut, blockading the tears that threaten to fall, and tries to take as deep of breaths as he can. 

 

“So, like I was asking,” Wonwoo says, rolling his eyes at Seungcheol’s display of anguish, “ _ Can you do that for me? _ ”

 

“Y-yes.”

 

Wonwoo nods, visibly pleased with that answer. “Good.” He picks up the used paper towel back up from Jeonghan’s desk and tries to scrub off a few stray bits of blood from his hands before putting his gloves back on. “Here’s the plan. Two years from now, I’m going to have one of my men shoot Kwon Soonyoung. The details of exactly where and when are still up in the air as of now, since it’s so far in advance, but the general outline of the plan still stands. One hour prior to Soonyoung’s murder, Jeonghan’s men are going to break Wen Junhui out of jail. The public will automatically assume that Junhui committed the crime, especially since they have a personal connection. As such, an investigation will have to take place, otherwise people will be suspicious.” He smiles deviously. “That’s where you come in. You’re going to lead the investigation, but on the basis that Wen Junhui is the culprit. I will merely serve as an informant, supplying the necessary pieces of evidence that will obviously incriminate him.”

 

Seungcheol shakes his head. “My detectives are too smart to fall for that.”

 

“That’s why I’m planning this so far in advance. You need to take your least competent detective and train them for this job. Give them only small, menial cases, then put them as the lead on this one. They’ll be scared to death and driven by a desire to prove their worth. Do you have any particular detective in mind, yet?” Wonwoo asks.

 

After a few moments, Seungcheol realizes he has the perfect fit for that position. As much as he detests the whole idea of this, his strength is fading fast, and if he doesn’t go along with Wonwoo’s plan, he knows he won’t live to see tomorrow. He sighs reluctantly. “Joshua Hong. He’s still in training, but will have graduated from the Academy by the time he’ll be needed.”

 

“Exactly how old is he?”

 

Seungcheol really doesn’t know, but he figures he’s around Wonwoo’s age. “Probably twenty-two or twenty-three.”

 

That seems to satisfy Wonwoo. “Perfect. So, just in case the shock of being given control over a major case all of a sudden isn’t enough to rattle poor Joshua’s bones, I’m going to take some… precautionary measures, just to guarantee he’ll have a hard time suspecting me.”

 

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Seungcheol questions, not liking the dark undertone of Wonwoo’s words. 

 

Wonwoo winks. “That’s classified, Cheol.” He purses his lips in thought for a second before directing his gaze back to Seungcheol’s bruised and battered figure. “A follow-up question: What does he look like?”

 

A sigh of resignation leaves Seungcheol’s bloody lips. “Gorgeous.”

 

“Even better,” Wonwoo chuckles, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “But, of course, a few terms need to be agreed on to ensure that this all operates as planned.” He stands up and stands in front of Seungcheol, his imposing shadow looming over the other man. “If my memory serves me right, you have a younger brother, don’t you?” Wonwoo taps his chin. “Hm, what was his name? Chan?”

 

Seungcheol’s eyes widen in fear. Wonwoo can threaten him all he wants, but as soon as Chan is brought into the picture, Seungcheol draws the line. “Don’t you dare, Jeon Wonwoo!” He thrashes around, knowing it’s completely useless, but that stupid voice inside of him compels him to try to break free anyway. “I swear to God, if you lay a single finger on him, I’ll-”

 

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” Wonwoo snaps, taking another step closer to Seungcheol. “You spill one word of this agreement to anyone-  _ anyone _ \- and Chan will be killed.” He crouches down again to look Seungcheol directly in the eye. “You think I won’t? Between the company and the drug business, the entire city is in my hands.  _ I’ve got eyes everywhere _ ,” he whispers in the chief of police’s ear. “So, do we have a deal?”

 

Every voice inside Seungcheol tells him to say no. As chief of police, he stands for truth, and justice, and moral integrity. Everything about this situation violently clashes with that. But he can’t risk Chan’s safety. It’s selfish and twisted, but he’d rather save the life of his younger brother than the life of some billionaire he doesn’t know. Based on what Wonwoo’s proven he’s capable of in this short time, Seungcheol doesn’t even want to imagine what the man would do to Chan. “We… have a deal,” he exhales.

 

A satisfied smirk dances on Wonwoo’s lips. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” Slowly, he leans in close to Seungcheol, lips just barely brushing the other’s in a phantom kiss. He doesn’t give Seungcheol time to react before he stands back up and steps away from him. “See you around, Cheol,” he laughs mockingly before grabbing his black fur coat and walking out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plotttt twiiiiiiiiiiist :)


	10. it's not my time to go (epilogue)

December, 1995

 

Joshua Hong wakes up to a splitting headache, so strong that he can feel his pulse pounding in his ears. Slowly, he stretches his stiff muscles across the luxurious bedsheets, far softer than those he has in his apartment. It suddenly hits him after a few moments that he  _ isn’t _ , in fact, in his apartment, but rather in a lavishly-decorated room with deep blue velvet chairs, and a glittering chandelier, and gold accents throughout.

 

The more he looks around the room, the more memories of last night return to his mind. He remembers the sensation of skin on skin, sharp cries and soft moans, and a striking face without a name. Even now, Joshua can feel the lingering touch of a stranger on his body, though the person in question is nowhere to be found. 

 

Instead of a tall, muscular figure next to him, there’s just a small piece of paper on stationery that reads ‘Shilla Hotel’ at the top. Underneath, in meticulous handwriting, are the words,  _ “Sleep well, Angel Face _ .”

 

With shaky hands, Joshua picks up the note and reads it again, and again, and again, trying to piece back together the puzzle. All he can see are flashes of dark hair, piercing eyes, and soft, but cold lips.

 

He feels disgusting and shameful as he realizes what he did. It’s beyond his understanding how someone as straight-laced and cautious as himself could agree to a one night stand with a stranger, but none of that changes the fact that he did.

 

The sun hits Joshua’s eyes with blinding intensity as he sits up. Through squinted eyes, he can see the expansive view of the busy city below, full of people coming and going places and doing important things with their lives. None of those people are sitting in a hotel room on the verge of tears because they’re left alone and helpless while the man who stole his innocence gets to go along with his life like nothing happened. Maybe some of them may have experienced that at some point in their lives, but in the moment, Joshua feels so lonely and isolated.

 

He doesn’t even know how to get home from wherever he is. 

 

Once more, he looks down at the note, noticing the bluish bruises on his arms that definitely weren’t there the morning before. 

 

Joshua doesn’t even try to suppress the tears welling in his eyes. He just lets them fall, all over his hands, and all over the note, blurring out its contents until all it says is,

  
“ _ Sleep… Angel…” _

 

 

_ end. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH! FINALLY, THE END! wow, i can't believe this one is really finished! it's been a wild, wild ride, that's for sure! but do not fret... there's more in store...
> 
> i'm currently working on a sequel to a view to a kill! (i know i wrote these a little out of order, but this one is first, chronologically, then a view to a kill, then the sequel, called the living daylights) if you enjoyed this story, please check that one out!
> 
> also, more shameless self-promo, i'm also working on anooother completely different fanfic... get hyped, my dudes
> 
> thank you all so much for your reads and comments and kudos. they mean the world to me, and also help me grow as a writer. i can only hope to produce better content for you all in the future!
> 
> i love y'all to the moon and back,  
> hedgehogwatch
> 
> ps follow me on tumblr @thesoapclub ;)


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